The Definition of Insanity
by Robert DeWarren
Summary: A different view on the origins and madness of Vaas and Jason


Good evening/morning/what ever. Hope you are having a wonderful day, and here's a small story. The idea is not mine, I'm sad to say, as it came from a pair of friends who shared their theory with me. Enjoy!

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Jason's head hurt. That wasn't unusual, after all, he had been waging what was practically a one-man war again Hoyt and his privateers for the last few days, and he had taken more than a few blows to the noggin. This pain, however was something unique in it's intensity. Sitting in the safe house on the eastern side of Hoyt's island, Jason was laying on his bed waiting for one of the aspirin he had managed to squirrel away to take effect.

Sitting bolt upright at what sounded like someone else inside his safe house, Jason drew the gun from under his pillow, waving the small Scorpion sub-machine gun around dangerously before taking note of no-one being there. He started to lay back down, before he heard a voice speaking from the table, "Did I ever tell you the definition of insanity?"

Springing up, Jason had the gun trained on the chairs occupant before even fully coming to his feet. Looking down the iron sights, he fellow looked just like he always, scar over his left eye, hair in a mohawk, red vest, combat trousers, the works. "Vaas, what are you doing here? You're dead. I stabbed you. A lot."

The psychotic pirate stood up, waving the small semi-automatic pistol about vaguely as he spoke. "I wanted to tell you something Jason, something very, very important. You see, I have a question, of the philosophical variety, to ask you. Who do you trust, Jason, who do you trust when every single person in the f- world turns against you? Hmmm? Who then?"

"I don't know what you're doing here, or even how you survived our fight in your fortress, but I'm not scared of you. I'll win again, just like I did then." No matter what confidence he had in his voice and words, Jason would never admit that inside he was absolutely terrified. This lunatic had come _back from the dead!_ Although with their track history, he really shouldn't be surprised.

Vaas kept the pistol, which was aimed directly at Jason's head, as steady as it would have been in a vice. There was nothing to cause it to sway, no remorse or hesitation. "I asked you a question Jason. Or are you not going to answer me? Are we not friends anymore?" Suddenly the pirate's visage hardened again, "HUH?! What, I'm not f- good enough for you?" There was a tense moment, in which both parties were tempted to pull the trigger, but eventually Vaas raised the gun slightly and laughed. "It's cool, I'm cool, but really Jason, my question? What would you do if you can trust no-one? Not even yourself?"

Jason paused, considering the madman's words. "What do you mean you lunatic?" This statement caused Vaas a great amount of humour, "What's funny?"

"You, Jason! You are f- hilarious! Think Jason, where were you born?" Vaas' face held a fanatic glint of mania. Jason opened his mouth to answer, but found that the information didn't present itself. "You don't know, do you? Do you know who your parents were?" Again, Jason went to speak, but again found out he couldn't recall. "Don't know that either? Maybe it's because they don't exist Jason. Maybe they never existed."

Jason took a step backward. "That's, that's not possible. I had to have had parents. Where would I have come from?" Vaas gave another one of those crazy grins, before continuing.

"Maybe it's not only them that doesn't exist. Maybe the others, Liza and Oliver, Grant and Riley, maybe they don't exist either. Maybe, just maybe, you don't exist either."

With a shout of rage, Jason launched himself across the room, drawing his knife mid-dive. Vaas drew his own, intercepting the blade. Forcing the pirates blade downward, Jason launched a sharp jab at Vaas' face, but the blow was deflected by a quick wave of the scarred mans arm. "You shut up!" Jason was beyond anger now, as the two skilled knife fighters fought. "How could I not be real? How could Grant and Riley and Liza not be real?"

"Easy Jason, you made them up. No one important but you ever saw them. Dennis never did, Citra never did. That crazy a- Earnheadt did, but he's so f- strung out that he would have seen anything you mentioned to him. And before you made them up, you made up yourself. You needed a new life, one that you could be a good man in. One that would let you escape your past sins. One where Citra would care for you again." Vaas' speech left Jason stunned, memories flashing behind his eyes.

Staring at the cages of victims.

Seeing Citra's hatred for him

Standing in a wooden building, pouring gasoline and sticking the lighter in his shirt pocket before using a match on the gasoline.

Ranting to thin air on the edge of a crater, while Rakyat were thrown in, before leaping in himself.

Pointing his own gun at his chest, just over the pocket with the lighter.

He could remember now, several weeks ago as he sat in camp, the drugs working their way through his system, making a decision. Walking inside of the building that housed the loot from all of their business, he grabbed the make-up case that had been taken from one of the women who had taken a cruise too close too his island. He pulled case open, and began applying the powders and female "war paint" to his skin. He grabbed one of the wigs that had come with a beauty student, and then clothes form a jet-ski enthusiast that they had previously grabbed.

He made his way to the cage, letting himself inside while everyone else slept. Seeing it now, he was impressed with his ability. There was no Grant to hold his hand, he did it all himself.

It was odd, remembering how he swapped between the two personas as necessary; one to command the fear he had cultivated throughout his life, and one to become someone that his family would be proud of. That Citra would be proud of. Jason looked up at the Vaas that was locking knives with him. "So you're…."

Vaas showed his maniacal grin again. "Not real either Jason. I'm just a spectre, a piece of your shattered a- psyche. I'm what they call a figment." Slowly, the two eased upon the death grips they had on their knives. Jason paused as he stood there, processing what he could. Looking up at the shadow of the man he really was, he asked, more with his eyes than anything, what to do next. "Have I ever told you the definition of insanity? It's doing the same thing, the same f- thing, over and over again, and expecting something different. So, what do you say we do something different this time?"

Although no-one knew exactly what had changed in Jason Brody that day, many thought it was for the worse. He became more violent, more ruthless in his dealings with people. The ends justified the means. Others, though, the vast majority, flocked to his banner. He became a symbol for the populace; a symbol that no-one would be able to overcome them.

Jason Brody became the Warrior Hero of the Rakyat


End file.
